Hamlet

Francisco at his post. Enter to him Bernardo.] Ber. Who's there? Fran. Nay, answer me: stand, and unfold yourself. Ber. Long live the king Fran. Bernardo? Ber. He. Fran. You come most carefully upon your hour. Ber. 'Tis now struck twelve. Get thee to bed, Francisco. Fran. For this relief much thanks: 'tis bitter cold, And I am sick at heart.